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onamissle[Cold winter coming down around him; Mello remembers this chill from a childhood in Winchester. Freezing droplets of water — but all of the discomfort falls to the wayside with the knowledge that L is not all right.]
[It's different when Mello is the cause, but this situation brings an anxiety that trembles deep into his nerves, his bones, and he needs to assuage it as soon as possible.]
[So he finds L, golden — non-existent thing that he is. It's no wonder to his protege that someone would choose to make him a King, of all things.]
{The chill creeps up his skin and spine and neck and cheeks as he walks toward the other, no intention at play. This is triage, he tells himself. Nothing more.]
[Clothed in thick, black leather and fur, a cashmere scarf wrapped half-way around his face: Mello might appear intimidating to the average person, but this is L.]
What's going on?
[Half-muffled behind the scarf, and he thinks that L looks like absolute shit. High as he remembers Matt in their NYC studio, melting into the couch with his eyes half closed and dazed, words nearly beyond him. Nearly in another world: unreadable]
[Despite the ever-living tense atmosphere between them, Mello holds his ground, his posture confident and sure. Pale eyes are concerned, narrowed, his spine tense.]
[Whatever their constant strife, this is a man that Mello would kill for.]
[It's different when Mello is the cause, but this situation brings an anxiety that trembles deep into his nerves, his bones, and he needs to assuage it as soon as possible.]
[So he finds L, golden — non-existent thing that he is. It's no wonder to his protege that someone would choose to make him a King, of all things.]
{The chill creeps up his skin and spine and neck and cheeks as he walks toward the other, no intention at play. This is triage, he tells himself. Nothing more.]
[Clothed in thick, black leather and fur, a cashmere scarf wrapped half-way around his face: Mello might appear intimidating to the average person, but this is L.]
What's going on?
[Half-muffled behind the scarf, and he thinks that L looks like absolute shit. High as he remembers Matt in their NYC studio, melting into the couch with his eyes half closed and dazed, words nearly beyond him. Nearly in another world: unreadable]
[Despite the ever-living tense atmosphere between them, Mello holds his ground, his posture confident and sure. Pale eyes are concerned, narrowed, his spine tense.]
[Whatever their constant strife, this is a man that Mello would kill for.]